


35 years 89 days till the end of the world

by friends_call_me_wobbly_hands



Category: Original Work
Genre: (Permanently), Apocalypse, Bittersweet Ending, Disabled Character, Eventual Romance, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Lowkey Cottagecore, Minor Character Death, No Lesbians Die, Non-Linear Narrative, Slice of Life, Teen Romance, Time Travel, Time Travelling Lesbians, Trauma, i am proud and happy that this is a preexisting tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friends_call_me_wobbly_hands/pseuds/friends_call_me_wobbly_hands
Summary: One time machine. Two girls. (Hopefully) all the time in the world to (try to) prevent the end.
Kudos: 4





	35 years 89 days till the end of the world

_ 35 years 89 days till the end of the world _

“So,” she says, “this is the plan, now.”

“Not really. The plan is that we have no plan.”

“…That’s the plan, yes.”

“No, we – we have none. No plan at all. We’ll do nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s what we plan to do.”

“My head hurts. Congratulations.”

Dana chuckles and covers Lisa’s hand with her own fingers. 

“…This is the end.”

“Not yet. We have… thirty, thirty five more years. But… yeah. I guess this is giving up.”

“No more saving the world?”

“No more saving the world.”

“Sounds like a vacation. I’m in.”

Their smiles bloom like daisies on the burned out ground of a battlefield. 

It is their last trip.

_ 35 years 2 days till the end of the world _

“…Do you think – No, wait, wait, here’s a good one.”

They lie on the roof together, their fingers connected.

“What?”

“Do you think we can invent memes?”

“…Lisa, I – what.”

“Come on. I’ll be so sad. Imagine, thirty memeless years.”

“I don’t think we can, Lis. Sorry.”

“Come on…”

“Is this really what you are thinking of?”

The stars are above, diluted by the city light pollution. The wind is cold. Lisa’s chilly fingers curl up in the other’s bigger palm.

“…It’s something funny to think of, I mean.”

“I guess.”

“I’d love to go down in history as the girl who invented memes.”

“Humans beat you to that long ago. Victorians have cat photos. Pompeii had butt graffiti.”

“We can timetravel and make the first ever butt graffiti.”

“No, Lis. We cannot.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

_ 31 years 156 days till the end of the world _

“Don’t worry, I won’t hog the remote for long, I just want to check - Oh god.”

“Is it… Dana… please, don’t. Turn off the news.”

“What is – where is – oh. I… forgot this was going to happen.”

“What?.. Oh. Oh, right. Today is… oh dear.”

“Look at this.”

“Dana…”

“I know they would not listen if we told them to- but god, just look at this. All those people.”

“Oh dear.”

“…I know they would not listen, but I- I just-”

“I know. Me too. But… you know. It’s not up to us anymore. Relax.”

“…Right.”

“Anyway, I… well. Dana. Dana, look away from the screen. You won’t – it’s not our job anymore, remember? I wanted to ask you something. Turn off the news.”

“Sorry, sorry, right. Right. I’m listening.”

“Right… Two somethings, actually. Can we please never turn on the news ever again?”

“…Okay. You are probably right on this… What else?”

“Dana… will you marry me?”

_ 28 years 23 days till the end of the world _

The greenhouse looks well even after the storm. The cabbage patch, though, has seen better days and needs care. Dana’s protective gloves are muddy, and she wipes sweat off her forehead with her arm.

“Look.”

Dana straightens her back, wincing at the stab of pain in her backbone, and looks. And giggles.

“Is that – no. No, no, no way. No.”

Lisa is holding a dark blue headpiece that looks like something out of a cartoon.

“No, please, put it back. Put that back. It’s embarrassing.”

“What? I cannot hear you, Navy Blue. I cannot process what you said without your pitch.”

“Stop it – Lisa, I love you, but what the hell. No. Do not remind me, please.”

“I’m not Lisa. I have no idea who Lisa is. I’m Miss Alert. Please, call me accordingly.”

Dana walks towards Lisa and snatches the headpiece off her hands. She ties her hair back with it, not caring about the dirt over her curls. Then she smacks a muddy palm into Lisa’s chest, making her stagger back. “Miss Alert, I’m afraid you are about to encounter a mad cabbage monster.”

“I am not afraid,” Lisa says solemnly. “I’ve come to lend you a hand with it. I’ve even brought my own gear. And my pride.”

“Both are about to be ruined.”

“Sorry, what? I think you said something that sounded like ‘thank you’.”

“Shut up.”

Dana raises a brow when her heartmate dons bright yellow rubber gloves and ties her hair with a yellow ribbon, but she does not say anything.

She herself needs a nicotine patch to stop smoking. Maybe this is Lisa’s patch.

_ 27 years 234 days till the end of the world _

“Dan? It’s a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare. You are here. Home. You are home.”

Dana pants out hot air and tugs onto her disgusting, sweat-soaked pajama shirt. It clings to her skin. It feels bad.

“Dana…”

“I need some air.”

She lunges into the night, shoving the door often. She realizes she has been running only when she’s gasping at the crossroads, her legs heavy and stiff. Dana stays there for a few minutes till the heaviness finally lets go of her chest a little. The air does not help on such nights.

The walk back home is a cold one. She curses and tries to hug herself to save some warmth. Wet fabric of her shirt refuses to dry till the very doorstep.

Dana sneaks past the bedroom. She takes a shower. She turns the water first icy cold, then scalding hot. It hurts. It helps. The shadows around her sink back into being shadows. The nightmare slowly dissipates into the back of her mind.

“Lisa? I’m back.”

There’s no answer.

“…Lisa?”

Dana’s fingers twitch. Her chest is tight again as she slips through the dark hallway and into their room.

Lisa is there. She is sitting on the bed with her head low. Dana feels a little relief, but the tight feeling is still there. Is she mad?..

“Lisa, I’m…”

Lisa jerks and looks around, surprised. Then she reaches for her hearing aids, puts them in. “Oh. You’re back.”

Right. She takes those off for the night.

Dana sighs and drops onto the bed once more, deflating like a pierced rubber ball. She grabs her wife, minding Lisa’s left side, and pulls them together. “Yeah. I’m back.”

“How’s the air?”

“Splendid.”

_ 22 years 5 days till the end of the world  _

Lisa’s new dress is hand-sewn and pretty. Her pricked fingers glow red, but her cheeks glow with pride.

Dana hums in a content way.

“…You don’t wear a lot of yellow, these days.”

“Yeah, I’m more of an orange person now, I guess.”

“Round and dimply?”

“Shut up, Dan.”

_ 18 years 34 days till the end of the world _

Before Lisa even steps inside, Dana says: “No.”

Lisa pouts. “Please? Pretty please?”

“No. No, no. No dogs. This house is dog-free.”

“You are heartless. Absolutely cruel.”

The puppy looks at them with big brown eyes. It makes a puppy noise.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because – We cannot know when – We don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah, we have. Twenty more years.”

“…”

“His name is Borkus.”

“…”

“He’s a Pomeranian mix. From a shelter. He needs a family.”

“Put the dog on the damn floor, Lisa. Stop poking me with the dog.”

“But… Dan…”

“I said, put him on the floor. I’ll schedule the vet. If I ever see him on the bed, he’s out.”

“…I’ll tell the vet, he’ll be devastated that he cannot come by to sleep anymore.”

“Lisa… And this is the last time you puppy-eye me into anything. Literally.”

“Right.”

_ 14 years 145 days till the end of the world _

There are now two dogs sleeping regularly on the bed.

_ 10 years 0 days till the end of the world _

Dana shoots the last target and lowers her rifle. The sun is high. The sky is white and iron-hot. Cicadas refuse to stay silent even for a moment.

Lisa comes to hug her from behind. “Not bad. But I still have more points.”

“You’re the only one who is counting.”

“That’s because I’m winning.” Lisa grins. The thin wrinkles over her eyes spread in rays. “We have a tiny baby tomato in that one patch.”

“Finally. Did you write down the type?”

“Yep, sure did. Oh, and also the groundwork is done. They say they will come back next week with more materials.”

“Good.” Dana turns her head to kiss Lisa on the hair – loose today. “What would I do without you?”

“Be sad and lonely. Very, very lonely.”

“True enough. But it would be quieter, too.”

Lisa lets go, demonstrably takes out her aids and walks off with her head held high before Dana catches up with her. She has to earn her forgiveness with kisses, over and over.

It takes much more than one.

\---

_ 9 years 364 days till the end of the world _

Something is different. Something is… strange.

“I think that’s the farthest we’ve gone so far.”

They are standing there, somehow so far from their home; both so much younger, so much thinner, both with tired eyes. Lisa wears yellow head to toe, with a toxic warning sign on her shirt. Dana is cuddled in blues. They’d look like teenagers at a comic convention if not for these eyes.

“Yeah. We only have the juice for one more trip. And… I don’t want to use it. We need to make this one count.”

“Right…” Lisa shivers, lips pressed together. “Let’s… let’s dance, Navy.”

“Yeah. There’s no point in being blue, Miss!”

Nervous chuckles. They lock hands, a bit awkward both, not looking at each other, and they walk away.

“One more time. Let’s do it… one more time.”

It is their second to last trip back into the past.

_ 7 years 236 days till the end of the world _

Of course, there were more trips before that one.

“Turn off the machine, we cannot waste the fuel. Okay, okay, I think-”

“Yeah?”

“I think I got it. I got it. I know what we need to do, this time.”

“Oh yeah? You are suddenly the galaxy brain? Big brain time? You are bigbraining the plan?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Come to think of it, galaxy brain is also bright blue. Oh my god. It’s all coming together. I connected the dots.”

“I said…”

“You said what, big brain Navy?”

“I said shut the fuck up, Miss. For fuck’s sake, you just do not know when to stop.”

“…Sorry.”

“So, well – Miss? …Miss?”

“What?”

“…Lis, I’m sorry-”

“Miss Alert. I’m Miss Alert.”

“…Right. Sorry.”

“Navy… You wanted to say something.”

“Right. I… Okay, so here’s the plan. We need to talk to Steven Palovski first.”

_ 7 years 230 days till the end of the world _

“…it’s just no use.”

Miss Alert shivers and looks over to Navy. “Blue…”

“It’s no use. I have no idea what to do. I’m all done. I just…” Navy throws her hands up. “It’s useless. I’m useless.”

Miss reaches over before jerking her hand back. She chews onto her lip. “You’re not. We – we would not know about Steven without you.”

“He still does not want to talk to us.”

“Yeas, but – this is a lead. This is, right?”

“…It’s over, Lis. It’s… it’s just no use. We failed. I failed you. I’m sorry.”

Miss Alert’s hand slowly, finally settles on Navy’s shoulder. Then she lands alongside her companion, maintaining a careful distance. 

“Navy. Come on. We still have a few tries left. Just a few more attempts, okay? There’s no need to give up before we are really out of chances.”

Navy does not say anything, and she does not look, but she does not evade the touch. 

“Just a few more. Dan. Come on.”

“…you are the one who is onto me each time I call you by real name.”

“Yeah, but… you know.”

The hand stays on. They can pretend that it is not there, but it stays on. 

“…alright. Just a few times more.”

“Just a few times.”

“Right.”

If she leans into the touch, well – she is tired and cold. There are no more reasons than this.

They can pretend that this is true, for now.

_ 6 years 349 days till the end of the world _

“…Miss?”

“Yeah?”

“I cannot sleep.”

“Me too.”

There is a pause. They cannot sleep alone, now – empty rooms and dark hallways fill their nights with sleepless anxiety. The room is dark, and they share a futon. Back to back. A rolled up blanket is between them.

“Miss?”

“Yeah?”

City sounds filter in through the half-open window. The sky slowly turns pale.

“…I heard you cry.”

Another pause. It is long enough to question one’s words several times.

“Sorry.”

“No, I – I did not want to wake you up. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t. I was awake anyway.”

“Oh.”

Navy rolls over. She stares at Miss’s back. The sight of her ponytail and the shape of her ear are natural by now. 

“…You haven’t taken off your aids.”

“Just one. I don’t sleep on that side.”

“Right.”

“I – I prefer to hear. You know. Just in case.”

“Okay.” 

“I don’t really lie on that side anyway because, you know, that one time I got thrown and broke my-”

“You are never quiet, are you?”

“…Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s a good thing. I think.”

“Oh. You surely say other things.”

“…Yeah. Well. I say lots of dumb things.”

Miss slowly rolls over onto her back and looks over at Navy. She is positively ruffled up. There is a scratch over her face, and her pupils are wide in the dusk of the room.

“Miss?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you… talk a little more? Please?”

“What?”

“Please.”

“Um. Um… Right... Sure. So, like I said, remember that one time we tried to stop an oil tanker from exploding? That is when I got that rib broken. Still hurts if you press on it.”

The night is long. 

Miss can talk for longer. 

They fall asleep at dawn.

\---

_ 5 years 56 days till the end of the world _

Again. Again, again, again. 

“I think we have to try going farther back in time, from now on.” 

An even younger Navy lights a cigarette. She does not like it, but it seems to be the only thing that helps her calm down these days. Breathe in, breathe out. The tight coil in her stomach slowly unties itself.

Miss kicks her legs. “Yeah, sounds legit. I mean, we have already thought of every damn thing during these five years, and…”

“Yeah.” 

“Probably something further down the line.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

They sit on the roof, watching the city. Far apart. Miss is hugging her knees. Navy is smoking.

“Hey, did you know? Smoking kills.”

“Very funny.”

“No, it’s not.” Miss stares at everything that is not Navy. “So… maybe… I saw a nice little place downtown.”

“No.”

“But-”

“I said, no. We don’t have the time.”

“But we have all the time in the world!”

“No. Just about five years. Not to mention that the time machine can work just that long.”

“I know… But, um… Please?”

Navy does not look and does not answer. With a sigh, Miss drops her head onto her knees once more.

“…Fine. Not that great of a place, anyway.”

  
  


_ 4 years 360 days till the end of the world _

Time goes backwards and forward, at the same time. They look younger still.

“Hey, Lisa?”

“Miss. Miss Alert. I’m in character. Come on, respect my character. I think we were doing the whole persona thing?”

“Yeah… but… this is stupid.”

“Oh, come on, have some fun! Let’s dance, miss Navy Blue!”

“It’s stupid. You are stupid. I’m stupid for letting that happen.”

“Oh, come on, say it. Please. Pretty please.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“…Don’t you make puppy eyes at me.”

“Please…”

“…There’s. No point. In being blue.”

“Yes!!! Finally, the prophecy comes true. The constellations align. The signs foretold this moment. I’m crying.”

“Do you always talk this much?”

  
  


_ 4 years 189 days till the end of the world _

Dana bites on her fingers. Later, she would be reaching for a cigarette, but not now. She does not smoke yet. 

“Damn. I thought we had it this time, for sure.”

Lisa kicks her yellow rubber boots and sighs. “Well, that marks failure number thirty seven.”

“Are you really counting?”

“Yeah. Everything. Also I aced three more landings. But I sadly lose at the number of punches.”

“…Really.”

“It’s important, Navy!”

“Important for who? And I said, you can just call me Dana.”

“Important for me! And don’t break your persona. You are Navy Blue, the warrior queen superhero. Who is never feeling blue.”

“You don’t even have a persona, why me?”

“Do so! I’m, um… Miss… Alert. Yep.”

“Miss Alert.”

“Yes.”

“Not even Miss Fortune? Or something as cheesy?”

“Nope. Come on, let’s dance, Navy!”

“…Is this – no. No, please do not make this your catch phrase. It makes no sense. Your persona makes no sense.”

“You sound just like Darrell from my DND sessions.”

  
  


_ 3 years 104 days till the end of the world _

A step forward, a step back. The girls’ headpieces are gone. Their voices are not afraid to get loud.

The machine is a knot of metal veins and sinews, connected to countless monitors and generators. It looks strangely somewhat similar to Mr. Tailor on his sick bed. It drips. It whirs. It sparks. 

It works.

“I think I am getting the hang of this. Let me just… right, here we go.”

“Hey, Dana?”

“Huh?”

“You are in the papers.”

“What?!” Dana drops the – thankfully sturdy – control panel and lunges to Lisa. 

“I wanted to look up the details of that one heist again, you know, because it was a big thing for us, trespassing and stealing national secrets, all of that, and look! They snapped you! And I think I can see my elbow in the shot.”

The newspaper is yellowed and frail. The date in the upper left corner marks it as about a year old. There is a grainy photo. Dana’s face is almost imperceptible. But if you know it is there, you can see with ease.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck!”

“What? I think it’s cool.”

“No, it’s – it’s awful! We cannot risk like that!” Dana bites onto her nail. “What if we get into books? Or better photos? What then? What if others learn about the machine? About us?”

“Well, what if they don’t?”

“Lisa, I’m serious. This is serious.”

“Killjoy. But… I have an idea.”

“What idea?”

“Well… all heroes need their personas.”

  
  


_ 3 years 0 days till the end of the world _

The starting point smells like disinfectant.

Monitors beep in dissonance.

“…Mr. Tailor, I don’t think I… got you right.”

Dana Amber, a college student, is feeling like a fish out of water in this hospital room. Her chest feels tight. Lisa Clark, her classmate, lets out a nervous giggle. Lisa always tries to make light of the situation. Dana rolls her eyes a bit. 

Mr. Tailor, their physics prof, a quirky but harmless aging guy, is connected to more tubes than they'd like. A breathing mask. A heart monitor. He looks dried from inside. As if he suddenly jumped from fifty-six to ninety.  


“No, Miss Amber, I’m afraid that this is what it is.”

The bracelets, his gift, hug their forearms like steampunk smart watches. Dana raises her hand, looks it over with skeptical wonder.

“…So, this is the key to the time machine.”

“Yes.”

“And we are the only ones compatible with it.”

“Right.”

“And…”

“The world will end in precisely three years. I’ve seen it myself, and came back to tell. I’ve left you all the notes I could gather from the one trip I could afford. Sadly, I’m not… compatible. Even one more trip would kill me before I would be able to tell anyone.”

“So… we have three years to stop the apocalypse?!”

“My dears,” Mr. Tailor says, smiling from behind his breathing mask. His monitor does not beep too well. “You have all the time in the world.”

When they are already outside, Lisa says, “You really believe him?”

Dana does not say anything.

“I mean, these things – they look awfully technological, but… My grandpa had dementia. I know how that goes. He’s probably just a crazy old guy. No offense.”

“…The storehouse he told us about is not too far.”

“You want to check? If there is really a time machine there?”

“Well. Never hurts to be careful.”

“Okay. But when we won’t find anything there, you will owe me one.”

  
  


\---

  
  


_ 2 years 364 days till the end of the world  _

“…So this is what happens when we fail.”

Lisa Clark – still just Lisa Clark – is curled into a small ball and silent. Dana Amber cannot fault her. Maybe just a little bit.

“Sorry,” she says instead. “Sorry for… not doing more.”

Lisa does not look up, but she mumbles: “…wouldn’t matter anyway.”

Dana cannot fault her for that, either, even if deep inside she hoped for something a little lighter. Something more like Lisa.

She does not say it. They were always on the different ends of the classroom, Dana in the front, Lisa in the back, a perfectionist and a class clown. They rarely interacted, rarely interjected. They do not know each other that much, despite the mutual secret of a time machine. Despite being classmates. Despite that inner urge to come closer and put a hand on Lisa’s shoulder.

Despite dying together just now.

They are not that close.

She fidgets with her hands until she forgets what she wanted to do with them altogether and stuffs them into her pockets. Then she sits down next to Lisa. Heavily. 

“Yeah. It would not.”

Lisa does not move away, but she does not lean in either. She lifts her head and glances over. “And… we should try again?”

“I don’t see an alternative.”

Lisa makes a sour face. “You always sound like a robot.”

“And you always sound like a chatterbox.”

Lisa’s lips twitch. “Well, gee, thanks.”

They sit in silence for a little while. Just enough to stop tasting smoke. It’s not intimacy, but the common heavy secret ties their shoulders tightly together.

“Let’s try again.” 

And so they do.

This was only their third trip.

  
  


_ 1 year and 131 day till the end of the world _

Sixty trips later, trying became harder.

Miss and Navy sit together in the storehouse. Navy smokes. She smokes non-stop these days. She looks three years older than her legal age, which is probably right in a way. Miss is none the better. She has stopped dressing down; she wears her yellow suit at all times. Almost an obsession. As if a moment of hesitation will be their downfall.

Sometimes it is. It has been.

The machine is barely working, anymore. Overheated, overtaxed, nearly out of fuel. Their time is running thin.  


“Mr. Tailor died today.”

“I know. I heard.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah.”

They are still trying to prevent the apocalypse, but the hope dwindles. Miss has taught herself the basics of mechanics. Navy learned how to code. They have learned politics. History. Ecology. Biology. Anatomy. Economy. Personal info of dozens of political figures. Together, they know more than a library holds. And yet, it’s not enough.

They have seen the world end twenty three times by now. Fire. Aliens. Bombs. Time rips. Black holes. No matter what they do, it all ends somehow. The victory slips through their fingers each time, each trip.

“What do we do, now?”

Navy does not turn around. “Try again. We still have a few more times left. One of them just might be the one.”

“Yeah, I know, but… I don’t mean that.” Miss leans in – easily. Habitually, by now. They have only had each other during these trips and years. Secrets are a thick bond. Hard-earned trust is thicker. “So… I know a nice little café.”

Navy does not answer immediately. When she does, her voice is hollow. “We don’t have the time. You know that.”

Miss shakes her head and grabs Navy, as if afraid that she will leave. “No. We do.”

“Miss…”

“We have a year. A whole year,” Miss says, and her eyes are feverishly desperate. She turns Navy’s head around, makes her look. “Navy. Dan. Dana. We have a year. It’s a lot. It’s a lot more than nothing at all. Please.”

Navy looks, and she feels an urge to reach out - to hug Miss back. She does not fight it, not anymore. Her shoulders slump in defeat. The side hug is awkward for both, but they do not let go.

“…Okay. But you pay for it. I’m broke.”

Miss smiles, even if it does not reach her eyes, and she grabs Navy’s hand with the cigarette. Her smaller, swift fingers take it away from Navy’s hold. Under her partner’s confused stare, Miss takes the cigarette into her mouth and breathes in. Next second she coughs it all, and then some more, out.

“What was it?”

“Wanted… to try your treat.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“Well, so you think.”

Navy takes it back, carefully puts it away. “Smoking kills.”

“Not fast enough,” Miss mumbles.

Their kiss is as bitter as cigarette smoke. It is short and clumsy, and they both turn terribly red. 

Miss reaches out for her phone and puts on the musical theme from “Titanic”.

  
  


_ 1 year 0 days till the end of the world _

They buy a fruit cake and very quietly sing “Happy Doomsday” before dunking it into the river.

  
  


_ 209 days till the end of the world _

“…Dana?”

They don’t try to save the world much, these days. Judging by the amount of fuel, they have exactly one trip to the past left. Their ‘persona’ attires are slowly gathering dust while they try to fit their entire lives into a year and a half of quiet, defeated happiness. 

They spend all their savings. They frequent that café, and then this and that cafes too. They lie on roofs and watch the pale city skies. They dream about things, small and big, that they cannot try.

They are lying on their futon, back to back, backs pressed together and hands awkwardly stretched out so that they can lock their fingers. It feels the safest, this way.

“Dana? Are you asleep?”

“Mmm… no. I’m not. What’s up?”

Lisa does not answer right away, and Dana needs a moment to realize that she sounded like-

“Are you crying?”

Lisa does not say anything, but her shoulders shake, and so Dana rolls over, clings to her – mind that left side – and holds her tight.

They need a minute, both: Dana to wake up, and Lisa to stop crying at least a little. They both almost succeed. It is not the first time one of them woke like this. Probably not the last either.

“It’s so unfair,” Lisa whispers. “It’s so unfair that we don’t have time.” She curls up, holding on to the lifeline of Dana’s hands. “I just – I don’t want it to end like that.”

“I know.”

“It’s so unfair…”

Dana squeezes her, and suddenly she feels a cold, crystal realization wash over. “Lis?”

“What?”

“We… still have a trip left.”

Lisa is still crying, but she slowly turns her head. “Just one.”

“It’s enough. We’ll go backwards. As far as it takes us. And then we won’t come back. Ever.”

A pause, a beat of silence, and then Lisa says, mesmerized, “Just living forward. We can… get old, like that.”

“Yeah. Just a life. Normal life. You and me.”

“We’ll get a house…”

“Yeah. A pretty one. I want a garden.”

“Grow stuff. Tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes, too. Cabbages. Corn.”

“Corn with butter. Apple pie.”

“Can you cook?”

“I’ll learn to. I want to make apple pie.”

“We’ll make lots of pies.”

“Yeah. And we will get dogs.”

“…Only over my dead body, Lis.”

“Please?”

“No.”

  
  


_ 196 days till the end of the world _

They do not need much time to say goodbyes.

Two hands, gripping each other. Two backpacks. Two sets of forged documents.

One last trip.

Like an overtaxed heart, the machine whirs to life with the last of its power. Sparks fly everywhere, generators shake. Cords snap. Space-time gives in, as it did countless times before. A flash, a roar, and it is done.

Finally, finally, after that last exertion, with a tired contented sigh, the machine comes to a halt and stills. Steam rises. Generators cool down. 

It can rest, now. 

  
  


_ 180 days till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 150 days till the end of the world _

  
  


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_ 10 days till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 5 days till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 4 days till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 3 days till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 2 days till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 1 day till the end of the world _

  
  


_ 0 days till the end of the world _

The world goes down in smoke.

  
  


_ \--- _

  
  


_ 1 day since the end of the world _

“…Finally.”

The fire has died down. 

They glance out of their bunker, squinting at the daylight. Their respirators make their voices sound funny. Lisa has a yellow ribbon tied around the sleeve of her hazmat suit. Dana has a blue one.

They walk out into the world they still need to save. They carry shovels.

Behind them, in the bunker they have built, there are hundreds of cots for survivors. Medical supplies. Hazmat suits. Seeds that will take root and grow even in this burnt ground. Everything they have slowly gathered during those long thirty-five years.

Seeing the end so many times makes it extremely easy to prepare for it.

They smirk to each other, locking hands - the most habitual, familiar gesture by now - and walk off. They are still not too old. Not too frail. They can do so much. They can plant back forests, rebuild houses, find those who need guidance, heal the wounded, feed the hungry. Perhaps they could not stop the inevitable, but now… Their hearts are strangely calm.

They can do so much.

They can save so much.

They have all the time in the world.

  
  


“Ready to dance, Dan?” 

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Come on, say it."

"Shut up."

"Please. Pretty please."

"You old cog."

"Please."

"Sigh. Fine. No need to feel blue, Lisa. There. Happy?"

"Tremendously so."

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"One more time?"

  
  
  


"One more time."


End file.
